


The Lies We Tell Ourselves

by PerpetuallyScreaming



Series: The Lies We Tell Ourselves [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Manipulation, Manipulative Deceit Sanders, More tags will be added as they become relevant, Pre-Canon, just a lot of manipulation here okay, unsympathetic Deceit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2019-11-29 11:25:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18222506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerpetuallyScreaming/pseuds/PerpetuallyScreaming
Summary: Anxiety had never introduced himself to the other three. He saw no need to, when he served his trait best from a distance. But he’d never dreamed he was the only one in hiding.Then, Deceit entered his life, and he was thrust into a tangled mess of loyalties and secrets.With his power over the mind and his relationship with his only companion in a delicate balance, he must choose what’s best for Thomas - and whether or not to seek truth.—Fleshes out a pre-canon backstory headcanon that will likely become an AU as things are confirmed and disconfirmed by canon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logic, Creativity, Morality. That’s all Virgil has ever known. Then, something changes.

The sides weren’t magically born at, well, birth. They had sprung up alongside Thomas as he developed a personality. Anxiety had been the first. He had watched as one by one, the rest had been fully realized and opened their eyes to the confusion that was sentience.

Anxiety hadn’t hidden away, per se - the others were well-aware that instinct and fear were parts of the mind; he had made sure of that. But in his eyes, he had arrived at the party a little too early, and there was no shame in waiting a little while to make his entrance formally, right? As far as they knew, there were only three seats at the discussion table, and they had already been reserved.

Except it had been more than a little while. It had been years - decades, technically. That’s how constants so often came about for him: under the perpetual guise of it’s-too-lates. Besides, watching vigilantly from the shadows served his purpose well, in his opinion. He had his space and his sanity, and the others were blissfully unaware of the presence of a fourth influencer.

It had never been a question in his mind that he was the completer. Four was a round number, for one, but mostly he was just born with the inexplicable instinct that there were three others: Logic, Creativity, and Morality.

He sat in his room mulling all this over in a rare moment of non-depreciating introspection. He wasn’t happy with the situation. He wasn’t sure he had the ability to be happy with it at all, by nature. But he served his purpose, and he had carved out secluded corners of the mindscape to call his own. If nothing else, he worked the system by rote. He was in control and had a counterbalance to his dismality: constancy.

Hiding away gave him a very different type of influence from the others’. Rather than debate and persuasion, his power was essentially ingrained into the mind itself. He whispered doubts and cautions into the ear at night and worked as a ghost by day. He blurred the line where the mind ended and Anxiety started, and in doing so accrued just as much power as Logic, Creativity, and Morality.

This was the way the mind had always run, and he was glad of it. He stretched himself out on the staircase like a cat, finally breaking from his zoned-out state. He was safe and sane, and he took great comfort in knowing that as long as he lived, he would be the unspoken completer.

Then he heard a knock at the door.

His heart stopped. He told himself not to assume the worst, but knocking meant person, person meant side, and side meant he had been discovered, and - no, he was not going down that path right now. He took a few deep breaths, managed to steady his breathing just enough to regain his sanity, and weighed his options.

His instinct would have been to stay silent and unresponsive, but he realized too late that loud hyperventilation kind of crossed that one out for him. That left Plan B.

 _Open the door, Virgil,_ he told himself.

“Take your time,” said a voice from outside. “I’ve got no plans.”

Well, at least that cleared up absolutely nothing. Curse their lack of distinct voices that would benefit him only in this exact situation!

It probably wasn’t Morality, from what he’d gathered of his personality. The comment lacked any type of naïveté. Beyond that, it was a coin toss between Logic and Creativity. But he didn’t have time to psychoanalyze the remark, not if the remark itself was any indication of its speaker’s patience.

Against his little voice of fight-or-flight (which was currently saying some very rude things about him), he turned the doorknob, held it stiffly, and tore it wide open like a Band-Aid off a scab.

It wasn’t Logic, Morality, or Creativity.

In the hall stood a man he recognized only barely as Thomas. He wore a dramatic black cape lined with yellow, and a bowler hat to match. But what stuck out about him wasn’t his outfit, but the left side of his face, which was covered almost totally in what looked like green scales. His eye was swollen pink in the center of it all, and upon closer inspection, he realized that the eye itself was golden.

So taken aback was Anxiety that for a moment, he forgot to be afraid and asked quietly, “who are you?” His voice was hoarse from years of disuse, and his shock only amplified its stiltedness.

The man chuckled. “You’re not the one who should be asking, now, are you? My name is Deceit,” he said, tipping his hat slightly. “But who are you?”

Deceit.

He pushed past a shocked Anxiety and invited himself in. As if he had not asked a question, he strolled slowly around the room, examining it closely.

“I-I’m, uh, Virgil,” he stammered, shutting the door behind them.

The man snickered, and Virgil felt suddenly sheepish. Why would he give out his name to someone he didn’t know? It was obviously a bad one, judging from his reaction. He was making a fool out of himself.

“Virrrgil,” he repeated with a drawl, obviously restraining himself from laughing. He returned his attention to him. “It’s about time I meet you at last.” He extended a hand. Virgil realized he was supposed to shake it, and leaped to do so after a moment. _Really not making a great first impression here,_ nagged the little voice. _Say something!_

“Are you a new side?” he asked, trying to sound friendly. The man made a so-so motion with his free hand, causing Virgil to back off as he realized that a ten-second handshake was probably overdoing it.

“I haven’t been biding my time or anything, but there’s no better place to pop in than in the middle of utter bliss. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Ha. He knew that philosophy all too well, like it or not. He let down his guard a little and nodded. “You know your stuff,” he joked, prompting a smile from the man that settled his nerves a bit. He wasn’t malicious, at least; he had just reacted honestly to his dumb name. Well, at least he’d learned his lesson. “So how long have you been here?”

He looked down and held up his fingers one by one. After four beats he abandoned the count and responded certainly, “Oh, it couldn’t have been any longer than twenty-two or twenty-three.”

“Days?”

The snake-faced man made an “eh” noise, watching Virgil’s expression with calculated amusement. “Days, years. Tomato, vegetable.”

Virgil blinked. That was impossible. That was almost his own life span.

It would mean that there had always been a fifth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So while writing "Piercing Issues," I kind of had to start filling in the gaps in my headcanon about these two in order to write a convincing conversation. More and more ideas started piecing together in my mind until I HAD to write them down. So this is a thing now, and if all goes according to plan, will probably be a thing for a good while. I don't have every plot point mapped out quite yet, but I wanted to put out something before the new video comes out and immediately disconfirms everything I've got written. Canon-aligned until proven otherwise, right?
> 
> I'm really proud of the way I've been framing Deceit's dialogue here because having every single statement be a lie that still sounds convincing is WAY harder than it looks. Thomas and the team have been extremely clever with how they implement it into the series, but wow is it hard to replicate without Virgil knowing he's doing it.
> 
> As with "Piercing Issues," I had the chance to work with a fantastic beta, oftheflamingheart. They helped hugely as the first audience for a lot of the imagery and jokes and improved a dozen other things I never could have picked up on. You can find them here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil's suspicions are confirmed, but is Deceit really at any fault?

He became acutely aware of how strange he was acting and shook his head forcefully as if to clear it. “I’m sorry, I just find it hard to believe that I never ran into you.”

The man cocked an eyebrow, and his expression read clearly: Virgil was being a hypocrite. He was right, of course. He had no right to act surprised after the lifelong lie he himself had led. At least the other was being honest about it.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “You’re right. But I mean, Anxiety, Creativity, Logic, Morality...those four seem to cover the bases. No offense.” He crossed his arms as if he were interrogating him. He immediately regretted the boldfaced move, but it was too late to take it back now. “So what’s left?”

“Perhaps you didn't hear?” prodded the man gently. “Deceit.”

Virgil blinked. Oh, that wasn’t a name, was it. That really should have been obvious. What kind of a name was Deceit?

“Deceit,” he repeated, weary from having made the connection. “As in lying and manipulation?”

“...No.”

Virgil resisted the urge to snort, immediately suspicious. Suspicion was probably the most merciful stance he could have taken, given the implications. If what Deceit claimed were true - or false, rather - that meant that every single case of dishonesty, every instance of cheating and betrayal was this man’s very life force. Every unethical, risky, and schoolchild-level wrong mistake that they had made, the mere prospect of which overwhelmed and haunted Virgil to no end, was the sole fault of the man who stood before him.

The only thing helping his case at that moment was the fact that he watched Virgil’s epiphany with a face of regret. His mood, so snarky and casual a moment before, turned to solemnity on a dime. He slumped down in silent acknowledgment of the reaction, and a bitter sigh escaped him. “I know it’s bad. I’m not going to pretend it isn’t. But please know that I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

Virgil shook his head in disbelief. He wasn’t sure how much power this side had, over either Thomas or the mindscape, but his mood at least indicated that he wasn’t planning to lash out, and that gave him the courage to contradict him.

“Lying is always a choice. There’s always the option to tell the truth. The _right_ option.” He spoke in a low growl without his meaning to.

Deceit cocked an eyebrow again, and though concern was now etched on his face, Virgil felt as stupid as the first time he had worn this expression.

“Is it really?” he asked. “If a side’s very purpose is to act a certain wrong way, does he have the choice to go against it?”

This made Virgil think. He cocked his head slightly like a dog, thinking over the rhetorical question. Deceit did have a point. Was it even possible for a side to go against his own nature? If not, then he couldn’t exactly fault Deceit, could he?

“And besides,” he continued, words aligning with Virgil’s thought process, “I don’t do him any harm. What you don’t know can’t hurt you.” He whirled around and resumed his pacing around the room, sparing Virgil only a side glance of pity. “At least, not without fear of the unknown. But I’m not sure what exactly causes that.”

Virgil winced, and he was grateful that Deceit had turned in the other direction. It was him, of course. He was responsible for that paranoia, those _anxieties_.

“I guess that technically speaking, I don’t actually do any harm,” he mused, seemingly contemplative. He pointed to himself absentmindedly and arced his finger over to face Virgil. “You do.”

Virgil ducked his head in shame. Deceit was right. It wasn’t a new thought to him, of course, but hearing it from someone else was a punch to the gut. This was his first-ever acquaintance, and he was terrified by how easily and rightfully he had been rejected. If a morally bankrupt side like Deceit could do that, then what about the good ones?

Deceit must have figured out some aspect of this thought process, as he pressed a hand onto his shoulder. For the first time, Virgil was able to focus on the sensation of touch. Even through his hoodie, the hand emitted a slight warmth. Given the reptilian face, though, Virgil was unsure whether this was a flesh thing or a Deceit thing. Either way, it was a strangely comforting sensation, and though it was foreign, Virgil welcomed it completely. He craned his head into the touch instinctively, and Deceit gave a small, sympathetic smile.

“Oh, surely you don’t think I fault you for all the wrong you’ve done,” cooed Deceit with commiseration in his voice. “But you’ve got to admit, you and I are inseparable.”

Virgil nodded, humiliation all but forgotten amongst Deceit’s smooth words and soft touch. He thought of something and gave a huff of amusement. Deceit raised an eyebrow in question.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just ironic. We’re so interconnected, and we’ve just been hiding from each other for decades without even knowing it.”

Deceit laughed heartily, making Virgil perk up a bit. It was an odd feeling to have a person to respond to him in real-time. While Anxiety was naturally terrified on the inside (big shock) by the abruptness of it all, Deceit seemed to be taking his clumsiness in stride, and possibly even enjoying his company.

“Well, I for one won’t be doing any more hiding,” promised Deceit. “I look forward to getting to know you, Anxiety.” He grinned widely, disarming and full of charm. Virgil couldn’t help but give a weary smile in return.

“Yeah, well, don’t get too comfy,” he teased, trying to keep the mood light. “I’m not exactly a social butterfly, you know.” He rubbed the back of his neck wearily.

Deceit nodded in understanding. “I’m well aware that you’re not social, Anxiety. It’s been exceptionally obvious from the moment I entered,” he chuckled. “But I’m sure I can help you remedy that.”

Virgil’s pupils dilated with incredulity. “You would do that?”

“Of course. I have high hopes for you, Anxiety.” He cupped Virgil’s chin in his fingertips and lifted it towards him. Though they were the same height by nature, Deceit’s poised, upright posture seemed to dominate Virgil’s slumped figure. It made him feel like a small child being encouraged, and he found that he was not averse to it.

“Uh, thank you,” he said, overwhelmed. “I’ll try my best, I mean. To live up to your hopes and stuff.”

Deceit released his hand from his neck, but Virgil’s visibly mesmerized face stayed where it was. “I’ll come back for you tomorrow.” He began to sink out, not taking his confident eyes off Virgil until he vanished. Laughing, he called out a few final words that reverberated through the air.

“Then, we fix you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the new video likely going up within the next few hours, I want to clarify that I have the plot for this mostly mapped out. The story will probably go in a direction that's off-base from whatever is revealed, especially if the team opts for the sympathetic Deceit route. Just a warning!
> 
> Again, thanks to oftheflamingheart for beta'ing - it's so helpful to get some fresh eyes on this thing. You can find them here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil mulls over the events of the day and retreats into his dreamscape to work things out.

Save for the change of scenery, the room looked no different in the night. Even in the daytime, it was infiltrated by a deeply foreboding presence. The shadows themselves seemed to protrude from the depths and crevices of the room. Whatever semblance of brightness there was only served to remind Virgil, who was looking straight ahead at the wall from his sprawled-out position on the bed, of his singularity in the otherwise lifeless room.

Before today, that had been a comfort.

But now he was discovered, and the emptiness seemed little more than a technicality to him. What did it matter that he was alone in his room if he wasn’t alone in his knowledge of himself?

He rolled over onto his right side with a groan, inclined to sleep almost as much as he was inclined to believe it would never happen. He pressed the side of his face into the pillow, but the sensation of pressure on one side only conjured the afterimage of that perfect divide between flesh and scale. With a bitter groan, he jerked back from the pillow like it was Deceit himself and turned onto his belly, suffocating himself uncomfortably in the sheets.

Deceit seemed too paradoxical for Virgil to figure out, which was perhaps fitting given his nature. He himself admitted to being a malevolent force upon Thomas, but he seemed rational and fair, and ironically honest. For all his appearances, he’d given him no real reason for suspicion besides his trait alone. Virgil had always been paranoid, and his concerns about being found and approached by a totally secret side would not be alleviated easily. But this was his first potential companion. The thought of alienating him the first chance he got made his blood run cold. Especially one who was so fundamental to his own function.

“You and I are inseparable,” he had said. Yeah, well, he’d had more than enough time tonight to overthink that phrase, and he’d come to realize that worked two ways. He didn’t have any real influence without the power of hyperbole to aid him, and he had a pretty good guess at what had provided that all these years, knowingly or not.

Virgil huffed in frustration and rolled over onto his back again. This was his Plan C for sleeping, and yet it always seemed to be the one he resorted to: lying flat and staring at the ceiling until his subconscious grew tired of his fatalist thoughts and granted him a much-needed numbness.

He allowed his mind to fall into the familiar rhythm of closing itself off, grateful that he was able to do so in such a shaken state. In his peripherals, he could see the blurry red form of “2:03” warning him that it was already too late, but he did not process it as his eyes shut at last.

He knew as soon as he blinked them back open that tonight was set to be a nightmare. For one, the atmosphere was as melodramatic as in one of Princey’s plays; it was blackness with a trace of purple, much like his room, but this was an empty void of color with no objects or horizon line to find his way by.

He tried to jump off and fly as he usually did when he was lost in one of these things, but if it was a success he had no way of knowing. There was no floor or ceiling, no up or down, and all he could do was float aimlessly through the nothingness.

 _No,_ he told himself, _no, I can do more than that. I’m a lucid dreamer, right? As long as I don’t forget that, I have control._

He took a deep breath and flicked his hand to conjure a lantern, some sort of light source to see through the mist of his mind. It flickered into being a few inches away from him. Relieved, he extended his arm and held it.

As soon as he touched it, though, it mutated, and its golden flame dissolved into half a dozen tiny vipers. Virgil clamped a hand over his mouth in shock as they squirmed through the creases in his fingertips and dissipated into the blankness.

 _What the hell?_ A dream had never taken control of his own creation before. He pulled his hand closer to himself warily.

He was more genre-savvy than to try again, so he pulled in his knees, closed his eyes, and elected to just float. He breathed deeply. For a tense moment, all was still.

Then, he heard the unmistakable sound of a rattlesnake rattle from behind him.

His breath caught, and he whirled around (or thought he did; he could never be sure). But there was nothing there but more darkness, more void.

He found his breathing began to accelerate, but it wasn’t so fast that he needed to control it just yet. It was fine. He was fine. It was all in his head. He was in control of this scenario, which was perfect, because more than anything else in his life, he needed control.

He needed control.

_I need control._

“I need control!” he shouted at the world, at this stupid dreamscape that he knew would pay his protests no mind. The words echoed back at him for seconds on end, the sound waves bouncing again and again off the walls of emptiness. His voice came back to him, the panicked crack mocking him a thousand times over. One voice came louder and clearer than the rest.

_Do you?_

The echoes stopped in an instant, and Virgil hesitated. It was just him, right? Just his subconscious asking him a simple question. An old friend. He could handle that. In any case, it wasn’t real. None of this was real.

“Yeah, I do,” he spat back, “and I’d really appreciate it if I could have it back, thank you very much.” There was a defensive edge to his voice, as though he anticipated a fight.

_We both know what happens when you have control._

The darkness subsided, and at once he was in Thomas’ living room. He looked about himself suspiciously but saw nothing. Just before he could relax, he heard a faint weeping from the corner. His corner. He looked down at the bottom step of the staircase.

It was Thomas, but if it weren’t for the clothing, it might as well have been Virgil on one of the really bad days. He was curled into a fetal position against the step, whimpering into his knees.

“Oh no, are you gonna do the cliché? Please don’t do the cliché,” deadpanned Virgil aloud.

Right on cue, the terrified man peered up at him through a gap in his legs. Muddied gray eyeshadow dripped past his chin and down his neck. In a helpless, paranoid voice, he choked out, “you...did this to me.”

Virgil sighed and rubbed his temple with his thumb and forefinger. “Dammit, you did the cliché,” he sighed. In his exasperation, he almost managed to keep the edge out of his voice.

Almost.

But when the insatiable voice said _this is what happens when you’re in control,_ he couldn’t bring himself to refute it. That was what happened, of course; Anxiety taken to the extreme was the total loss of functionality. His warnings, however urgent and important they seemed to him, had to be mostly ignored through whatever means were necessary for Thomas to keep himself sane.

_Even if it means lying to himself._

Even if it meant lying to himself.

_You never really wanted control._

He never really wanted control. All he’d ever wanted was security. For himself and for Thomas.

_Even if it means lying to yourself._

Even if it meant lying to himself.

When Virgil freed himself from the drowsy trance of awakening that morning, he blinked in confusion. That was weird; he usually remembered his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how about Selfishness v. Selflessness, huh? I was lucky enough to have predicted Deceit to be pretty similar to the way he was portrayed, so the episode doesn't really affect my characterization or plot going forwards. Though with the continuation Joan hinted at on Tumblr, I have to wonder how long that'll last.
> 
> Huge thanks to OfTheFlamingHeart for easing my worries about this chapter. You can find them here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit finds that his presence is required elsewhere, and sets off to sleep.

Deceit hadn’t exactly gone in with a plan, but he came back with uncontrollable glee that lasted for the remainder of the day. That night, he rolled all across the bed ecstatically, pumping his fists and hugging himself until he nearly fell off in his excitement. Only then did he grow more cautious and composed.

He sat in the center of the bed and tented his fingers into a pyramid on his lap. This was a mannerism he was fond of using while going over the events of a day. He would certainly need it in the coming days, for he had been given much to reflect on.

For a meeting without a plan, the encounter had gone just about as according-to-plan as it could.

The new side - Anxiety, he had inferred - was, simply put, a hot mess. Shaky and stammering, it was abundantly clear that he lacked in any social experience.

He adored the idea of befriending someone like that, so untainted by internalized societal norms. Granted, he wasn’t oblivious to them, being a side so prominent in social settings, but it was clear that he considered himself generally unacquainted with their practice. Deceit suspected he’d placed some sort of disconnect between himself and the interactions; the idea made him even more excited about this new friend of his. He made a note to himself to test his theory later.

For the time being, though, he certainly had his work cut out for him. This man was in desperate need of a companion, as was he.

Getting someone to relinquish control over a situation was not a new practice to him. If anything, it was one of his favorite pastimes to see just how easily he could force someone’s hand.

But this was a special occasion. For the first time, he was tasked with gaining an ally who was not Thomas’, but his own. Oh, how the thought excited him, to have someone truly and completely his own.

Deceit was not the inner demon so many depicted him as. He’d seen the way his primal urges were shunned in so many of Thomas’ friends. Their own deceptive sides beckoned to them, and they repressed it. They were blind.

That wasn’t going to happen to him. He knew better than to fail where so many others had, going in it alone to convince him of an absolute. No, he was going to be smooth and subtle, one incident after another until he could no longer be denied.

Most importantly, he was going to have an accomplice.

He was going to show that he was needed and indispensable. Because here was a side that was dependent and he would be all there was keeping him together. He was going to show that he could not be ignored. Because he would be irreversibly linked with another side of the mind. He was going to show that, like it or not, he was present.

He felt a metaphysical tug on his consciousness. He sat up a little straighter in his bed, and his sly, side-mouthed smile revealed pleasant surprise. His presence was needed.

It was not an unusual occurrence for him to be requested in this way; as a hidden side, his influence on the others came from different means. No, what surprised him was not the pull itself but its source. It came from a far corner of the mindscape, and its essence was frantic and unfamiliar. The summons was pained and tired, so unlike anything he had received from a side before.

The identity of his new beneficiary was not hard to figure out, of course. The meeting had obviously made an impact on Anxiety, and Deceit was delighted to see it come into effect so immediately.

“Very well, my sweet Virgil,” he said aloud to nobody in particular. “If you wish to see me again so soon, I suppose I have no choice but to oblige.”

The road to sleep was a smooth one that night. His eyes shut as a final thought drifted from his waking mind to his dormant one: Today was the day he had introduced Anxiety to his infectious spread, and once he entered the system, it would already be far too late.

He knew the circumstances as soon as he blinked his eyes open. So this was the subconscious of Anxiety: an endless abyss with no steady constants. It was a rather telling caricature, and Deceit knew at once that he would have to inspect it more closely in future visits. However, there was no time for that now: he had a first impression to make all over again.

He tried to look about himself but found, as usual, that his body was invisible from his left eye. Below him, he saw an endless black pit and the skewed, ghastly blur of his figure that had no place in the dream but permeated it nonetheless.

He swam through the vacuum until he saw a far clearer figure, the same one he had seen earlier that day. He propelled his shapeless form through Anxiety’s.

Attentively, he watched as the hoodie seemed to rise in response to Deceit’s cold presence. Anxiety looked around for a cause but found none, and Deceit noticed the way he collapsed inwards onto himself. Weary, he drew up a little candlelight lantern to reassure his fragile self. That was when Deceit knew it was time.

An invisible finger touched to the golden flame, which seemed to burn into itself as its warm light turned concrete and spindly. Deceit felt a rush of delight at his handiwork when the small snakes lunged towards Anxiety.

The other figure clutched his knees to his chest and for a while was strangely quiet. Deceit waited expectantly for him to try again, or for any further reaction at all, but none came. Impatient, he flicked a hand towards his prey and invoked the soothing sound of a deathly rattle. He chuckled in silent amusement as Anxiety spun around to face him, and his huge, terrified eyes stared unknowingly into Deceit’s.

It came as no surprise that Anxiety would be a nervous wreck in the tense moment. He studied the mannerisms of his panic with detachment. The unrhythmic up-and-down jolts of his stomach and the way his fingers drummed urgently on his knees, it was really all so trite.

But whatever the case, it was evident and easy to work with. Slowly but surely, Deceit began to do what he had done to each of the others. He would call out to them at a point when they could not tell the difference between insults and their own mind, and he would wrestle down their resistance until his voice could not be separated from their thought process.

Anxiety was unique in his undertaking. He seemed to accept the voice without question as if he were used to it. It was another on a long list of things that Deceit would have to figure out later.

But like the fidgeting, it served his purposes quite nicely. Anxiety warmed to his words at once. When Deceit brought about the image of an absolute Thomas corrupted by the extremes Anxiety so foolishly held, he took it almost in stride. His agreement with the little voice was resigned and unlively. For all his paranoia, Anxiety was not defensive. How sad it was to have an anxious trait that could not even defend himself.

Deceit felt pity stir within him. That poor side must have gone through life so meek and defenseless. It wasn’t right. Nobody, individual or side, should have had to carry that burden of uselessness on their shoulders. He was alone for no other reason than a reluctance towards the others.

Well, that ended here. Companionship was clearly a mutual necessity. Even Deceit, normally so against those kinds of ties, saw the obvious codependence.

So when he whispered that Anxiety had never really wanted control, he didn’t see it as real malice. It was ultimately for the benefit of the whole person, after all.

When the dream neared completion, Deceit decided it was time to put his effectivity to the test. He swam through the void until he was face-to-face with an oblivious Anxiety. He reached out an incorporeal hand and patted him on the head. Anxiety, of course, did not react to it. Deceit smiled warmly.

“You will get that security you’re in need of,” he whispered gently. “All in due time. But for now, there is no need to worry.”

Anxiety hesitated, then shrugged. “Okay. I mean, I’ll try my best. My subconscious kind of just, y’know, traumatized me with hyper-realistic dream horror and all that jazz. But yeah, other than that, it’s no big deal.” His voice dripped sarcasm, but his slumped posture and eyes fixated on the floor told a very different story.

“My apologies,” whispered Deceit. If he had been visible at that moment there would have been a sly gleam in his eye he was unable to hide. “Please, then, do me a favor and forget all this ever happened.”

The dream began to dissolve around him. He saw Anxiety’s head fall in defeat before he faded into the black, and he knew he’d won.

Deceit’s awakening the next morning was a good one. It had been forever since had felt so refreshed. He stretched his arms out to his sides and got out of bed. Today was going to be productive. He would check quickly on Logic, Creativity, and Morality to make sure that no new developments had arisen. Then, it was off to meet with Anxiety in what was to be the first of many corrections.

“We’ve got work to do, my dark hideaway,” he said aloud as he dealt with his golden button clasps. “It’s going to be a busy day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you couldn't tell from Piercing Issues, I have a thing for multiple-perspective writing. You'll probably be seeing a lot more of that in this story because it's just so gosh darn fun (and a lot easier) to write. For this chapter specifically, I really wanted to flesh out the way I think Deceit thinks, which can be a lot harder to do from another perspective since he tends to mask his true intentions so much. Hopefully, this provides a little insight into his motivations in this story. I played around a little bit with some obviously non-canonical powers near the end, too. I'm toying with the idea of expanding on that later on? Let me know what you think because I'm right on the edge about that.
> 
> Also! I now have an update schedule for this fic that I'm going to do my best to stick to. I'm going to try to update on even-numbered Sundays from now on. That should hopefully be a good backlog buffer and motivate me to write consistently without making it a chore. We'll see how it goes. I'm also going to start cross-posting to my new Tumblr side blog, so if that suits anyone better feel free to check it out over there: https://set-aside-for-sides.tumblr.com/
> 
> Of course, a big thanks to oftheflamingheart for being a fantastic beta yet again. They helped me clear up a few parts of Deceit's personality I was on the edge about here, which is so helpful to getting him to down right. You can find them here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lull in the workflow, a moment of relaxation. But that's when Virgil needs to start thinking about why he does feel so relaxed. Thomas doesn't usually feel this way, so what is Virgil doing differently? What is he doing wrong?
> 
> What is he forgetting to do?

The sharp rasp at the door made Virgil jump from his position halfway down the stairs. He barely managed to avoid hitting the banister as he stumbled to the level. It was just another in a long series of things he’d need to get used to now that he’d be having company semi-regularly, he supposed.

“Come in,” he called, like a baby boomer into a smartphone.

His first thought when Deceit emerged from the hall was that his demeanor hadn’t changed a bit since yesterday. His head was held high and his hands were clasped behind his back. His stride was calculated and fluid. With his flowing black cape and bowler hat, he was the spitting image of a stage magician.

For a moment he pondered whether this mysterious air he carried should be a warning to him. It had to be an intentional grandeur; no sane person carried themself like this without thinking about it.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as Deceit pivoted to face him. The same saccharine smile from yesterday was spread across his face. He extended a hand as he had before, but this time Virgil was prepared. He shook his hand one, two, three, four times before carefully dropping it.

An embarrassed red teased his cheeks as he realized his mistake this time around: It was much stronger than he’d meant it to be. He took a deep breath. It was fine. He would fix that in time. This was exactly the kind of thing Deceit was here to help him with, after all.

Deceit was gracious enough to break the silence for him. “Anxiety, we meet a second time. How _are_ you doing?”

“Fine, I guess,” Virgil shrugged nonchalantly. “He’s been having a pretty chill morning, so I’ve gotten the day off for once. About time.”

Deceit cocked his head, and that damned line in the middle of his face sloped vertically. It made Virgil feel very small all at once. “Gotten time off?” he echoed with a lilt.

“Yeah, you know, I haven’t had to -“ He waved a hand vaguely, searching for the right word. “- kick in to make him worried about getting it done. We did a bunch of footage yesterday, so we’re good to go.”

“Really? And you’re...happy about this?” prodded Deceit. He held one hand up in the air and stroked his thumb against his knuckles. It was a strange gesture, but all the sides had their little mannerisms. They were nothing if not archetypal. Virgil reasoned that the same could be said of the dramatic gait. He was sure Roman would have appreciated it if he were there.

Deceit’s apparent accusation was harder to write off. He couldn’t quite place what he was doing wrong, but he did not doubt that there was something there. A sensation in his right hand told him that he was slapping the side of his thigh.

“Yeah, it’s really nice to be able to relax,” he said, slow and guarded. “Since I’m all of his worries and paranoia and stuff, it doesn’t happen a lot.”

Deceit bit his lip, confirming Virgil’s fear that he had messed up in some way or another. “I can ease up a little if you want,” he said hastily.

Deceit sat down on the step and patted his side for Virgil to do the same. He did, and Deceit placed a firm hand on his knee. A chill went up Virgil’s spine in his surprise, and his shoulders dropped immediately. He was never going to get used to that strange, warm sensation.

His voice was level as he asked, “Anxiety, my dear, where does your power come from?”

Virgil was a bit unprepared for that question. “Danger, I guess? Unpredictable situations?”

Deceit nodded, expression unreadable. His hand hovered above Virgil’s leg. “And how do these situations come about?”

Virgil frowned. “They ‘come about’ when I get concerned about them, I guess. When I make him think he has something to worry about.”

Deceit nodded again, but his eyes now twinkled with pride. He pressed down firmly but not uncomfortably on Virgil’s leg.

“Very good, Anxiety! So can you tell me what happens when you’re not sending that message?” he asked encouragingly.

Virgil’s nose scrunched up slightly in concentration. There had to be some sort of connection here he was looking for. After a moment, it clicked. “I’m not getting any power from it.”

Deceit nodded a third time and slung an arm over Virgil’s shoulders. Pride - he’d guessed correctly. “That’s right! You’re so smart,” he crooned. “Now, I’m surprised you enjoy that so much. Wouldn’t Anxiety be, oh, anxious to make sure he was doing everything he could to keep Thomas on the right path?”

A chuckle escaped Virgil’s mouth before he had realized. “Me? Seriously? I’m not exactly Jiminy Cricket. One time, I told him to take all the brownie chunks left on a free sample platter so that the man next to him wouldn’t know what type of food had been there and judge him for eating brownies.”

“Mm, funny. I don’t seem to remember that one very well. Nevertheless, your priorities are important to you, are they not?”

“That’s...that’s what ‘priorities’ means, yeah.”

Virgil started as Deceit suddenly slashed his arm across his chest and pointed a finger out at him with a confident smile. “Exactly! So by denying your purpose as Anxiety, by refusing to pursue those priorities at every possible moment - ”

“ - I’m creating an imbalance,” he realized. Deceit’s momentary scowl at the interruption was quickly replaced with a proud smile at his astuteness.

“Yes!” he cried, voice gushing with satisfaction. “Yes, exactly! You got it, Anxiety!”

Virgil couldn’t help but beam at the enthusiasm. “Is that what you want me to work on? Balancing stuff out? Because I’m more than willing to work on my job as long as it’s not hurting him.”

Deceit nodded. “Have no fear, my dark hideaway. I’ll let you know if you’re doing anything wrong. But for now, your priority is to do everything you possibly can to protect him.” He bumped him roughly with his shoulder, though his smile was still just teasing. “And you’ve been slacking.”

Virgil used his massaging of his mildly sore arm as an excuse to fold in on himself and hide his faltering smile from Deceit. That shouldn’t hurt him. It obviously wasn’t meant to hurt him. He was just new to the whole interaction thing. _Laugh it off._

“Yeah, there’s nothing like a good dose of me to get those sweet, sweet procrastination juices flowing,” he laughed nervously. He swept his hand over himself in satirical, Roman-like overconfidence. He knew how forced it sounded, but Deceit seemed to miss it. His face soured immediately at the words, and Virgil shriveled under his intense stare, all amusement gone.

“But I’m gonna work on it,” he added quickly. “There’s not going to be any more excuses for him to hold back. From now on, I’m gonna exercise control over him whenever I need, no hesitations.”

Deceit held him under his watch for a moment longer. When Virgil felt like he was about to snap like a bone under the weight of his gaze, he finally let up. “I’m glad you’re so set on taking control,” he said. The warmth slowly returned to his eyes. “That’s exactly the conclusion I was hoping you would come to. See now? You don’t need my help.”

“No,” said Virgil quickly, louder than he had meant to. Deceit pulled away at the volume. “No,” he repeated more softly, with a small cough, “I...do...need your help. I never could have figured out what I was doing wrong without it.” God, he had never noticed just how little room was on that stair. He pushed himself up. “Not for lack of trying. I ask myself that question every second.”

Deceit nodded. “And with good reason. It’s good that you have such high expectations for yourself, dear Anxiety. Think of me only as the _push_ you need to understand your purpose.” He got up himself and enacted this. Virgil was knocked off the step and instinctively grabbed onto Deceit’s cape with a death grip that lasted far past his grounding. When after a few seconds he did not let go, Deceit gently placed a hand on his head.

“You’re adorable, you know. You’re going to do good work,” he said.

Deceit had many idiosyncrasies. Over the next days, weeks, and years, Virgil would familiarize himself with them. He would find ways to work with the more scary ones and tailor to the gentler ones. He would know how to respond to every mannerism and hand movement. Anxiety was basically hard-wired for adaptation, after all.

And yet, in that moment, Virgil knew for certain that no matter how many compliments he received, he would never, ever get used to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flow of this chapter was a lot of fun. It was something I needed to write less for the plot and more for myself. I want to leave it mostly up to interpretation so I won't say a bunch about it beyond that.
> 
> What I will say is that oftheflamingheart continues to be an amazing beta reader. You can find them here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit's been doing some research, and it's high time he shares with the class. At long last, he sheds some light on what he hopes to achieve.

Virgil wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been since he first met Deceit.

It wasn’t as if time never passed in the mindscape. Sometimes it seemed like it slowed, especially in split-second decisions where he or Logan was involved, but it always leveled out relatively quickly.

Still, he had two worlds to attend to. This one was closer to his personal reality, sure, but his entire purpose was to attend to the world out there. It had to have attention as much as possible. So naturally, the events of his own “life” weren’t exactly the focus of his memory.

This had never been a problem before. Simply put, his life was uneventful. There were no day-to-day differences, and he seldom did anything at all worthy of being preserved in his long-term memory. He received information. He acted accordingly. No harm, no foul.

Still, it was no surprise that these past days had begun to blur. Maybe it had been a month, maybe two. Deceit seemed to think it had been only a few weeks.

Whatever the case, he was still coming in every day. That was pathetic, Virgil knew. He hadn’t had an exact time frame in mind going into it, but it had definitely been shorter than however long this had been. Deceit thought he was improving, and while of course Virgil didn’t doubt him, his judgment was often a little…optimistic, in his eyes. If he was making progress, it apparently wasn’t enough to stop taking time from Deceit each and every day.

Because here he was, pacing his room with smooth hand gestures for the umpteenth time since he had arrived today. Virgil appreciated it, of course, but it was hard not to hate himself for needing the most rudimentary of his functions re-explained to him. Was he really doing that bad?

He snapped out of his thoughts as he heard the clearing of a throat, but when he looked up from his spot on the stair nearest the floor, Deceit was still turned in the other direction. Presently, he swung around just in time to catch Virgil’s eye and continued with his lecture.

“Now, unfortunately,” he was saying, “you are sadly lacking in these areas. What’s more, you have no desire to do the easy thing and tell him your demands directly. It’s unacceptable.” He sighed and nudged him. Virgil flinched back on instinct. He was learning.

“On the other hand,” he continued sharply, “you’re far too incompetent and oblivious for a real interaction with anyone less forgiving than myself. Which leads us to the other option.”

He held up four fingers. “Listen closely, Anxiety. Three main hormones trigger the fight-or-flight response: adrenaline, norepinephrine, and oxytocin. I am going to do everything in my power to stimulate these in you to a normal extent.”

Virgil tilted his head. “Me? Why me? Isn’t the whole point to get those things to Thomas?”

Deceit shook his head. “Remember, our theory is that he produces these based on your own reactions. If we can get you going, there is a 100% chance he will follow.”

“Right, right. Of course. Sorry.”

Deceit held his gaze for one shamefully strung-out moment longer. Then, he brightened. He crouched down and hopped onto the stair above, plopping down next to him. Softly he placed a hand across the other’s shoulders.

“Now,” he said, and his voice became soft and tender. When he turned Virgil’s chin to face him, his eyes were gentle and totally devoid of that uncomfortable scrutiny from a moment prior. “Let’s brainstorm. What do you think keeps you alert?”

“Danger,” he offered immediately. “Anything that poses an immediate threat.”

“Ah. To who?”

He gave only a noncommittal shrug and used it to draw himself slightly to the other edge of the step. “To anyone, really. I mean, trying to avoid anything that might be a potential threat, that’s my whole thing. Obviously, self-preservation comes first, but that doesn’t mean I don’t freak out when someone else could get hurt.”

“But you come first, is what you’re saying.” His voice was in that unrevealing state he sometimes slipped into. It was impossible to get a read on his approval one way or the other. He decided it was best to let his guard down for now and keep going honestly.

He allowed himself a small chuckle. “Me, personally? I’m dead last. It’s my job to protect him, not myself. And needless to say, the sides and you come before me. If any of you fail, he fails. And if no one’s disrupted by it, I’ll try to protect myself after.”

The mask of stiff leather that Deceit seemed to wear day and night ripped for an instant to reveal the unnerved man behind it. Virgil tensed and ducked in the other direction, unsure what he had done to warrant this. Did he say something unprompted? There had never been a problem with him putting others before himself before, so why now?

The split-second pat on his shoulder was enough to ground him before he could spiral down that path. The familiar voice drew him back into the moment. “V- Anxiety, I’m well aware that you are inessential.”

There it was. He refused to look at Deceit and decided his own shoes were a much more interesting subject. He tapped them up and down a couple of times, watching as the white light moved up and down the toe caps.

“However, I assure you that myself - and the others, loath as I am to say so - are just as capable of protecting ourselves as you are.”

Virgil looked up, and for once it was Deceit who had his face turned away to clear his throat. By the time he looked back, it had defaulted back to that nearly unreadable mixture of signals that suited his face so easily.

“Anxiety, you are solely responsible for the well-being of Thomas-” He held up a finger on one hand - and yourself.” He held up a finger on the opposite hand and bumped them together. “And under no circumstances are you powerful enough to be any sort of protector, or martyr, or whatever fantasy of valor you seem to have in mind.”

“But if I can’t protect you guys, the whole thing goes down!” Virgil wasn’t sure why this was such a big deal to Deceit, but he knew a thing or two about wild, hypothetical scenarios, so he was happy to oblige with his own opinions. He put a hand to his chest. “I’m more than a physical reflex, Deceit. I exist to keep him mentally sound, to compensate for all the panic-worthy, off-the-wall ideas that they keep coming up with.”

“So what’s the problem?” asked Deceit abruptly.

“I...what?”

“If your purpose is to cancel them out, then what’s the problem? Why are you so keen on putting them before yourself?”

Virgil blinked, incredulous. He considered his response for a second. There was a newfound bite to his voice when he said, “I’m really not sure what you’re getting at here. Of course they have stupid ideas a lot of the time - heck, I probably have more! I’m a check on that, yeah, but they’re still _needed_. Probably more than either of us.”

Deceit opened his mouth to speak, but Virgil didn’t notice. He was on a roll. “Look at us! My whole thing is that I hold him back, and your whole thing is that you help him lie to himself! He’s not gonna live off the two of us, that’s for sure. And we’re not gonna make the world a better place by letting him lose the parts of himself that let him do good, rational, inventive stuff.”

He sighed and took a moment to regain his composure. Why was he getting so worked up about his? It was theoretical, just theoretical. He was being a bumbling mess about this whole thing. He was dragging Deceit along on one of his little episodes not for the first time.

“Look, I know you have his best interests at heart. We all do,” he said more softly. “But I’ve always aimed to protect, and I’m not gonna give that up because you think he can live off it. He can’t.” He looked up at him again and laughed nervously. “Sorry, I really lost it for a second, didn’t I? I don’t know why I made such a big deal out of it. I get so worked up about these impossible situations sometimes.”

He massaged the back of his neck and grinned sheepishly. Deceit squinted. His eyes scanned Virgil up and down as if trying to solve some strange sort of puzzle before eventually relenting.

“We didn’t figure out quite what I was hoping to,” he admitted. “I must say you made some fair points, however. Ah - we’ll have to discuss more tomorrow. It’s getting late, after all, and I know you prefer to be alone in the night. But you did very well, Anxiety.”

He had a point, maybe, but it sure didn’t feel that way. He’d been so swept up in this debate over what to do in this stupid little what-if. And while Virgil was no stranger to being caught up in what-ifs, going through his thought process with someone else felt...too exposed, in a way. Embarrassing, if nothing else. Something about the way Deceit had prompted him had been so provoking, so upsetting. Why did he act like it mattered so much?

For crying out loud, it was imagined. Much like those arguments that played out in his head with subjects nobody would never really contest, or the way Deceit seemed to be reaching for something inside his cape, or the way a click (likely from the floorboards) silenced a hum in the air that he thought he might have noticed only in retrospect, it was something that would for no reason actually come to pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely forgot to update last week! I had the chapter all ready to go and it completely slipped my mind. Sorry, everyone! I'm posting it now, but it won't affect the schedule going forward. I'll be traveling a lot over the summer, and I hear that oftheflamingheart, who beta reads this fic, is taking a trip himself, so those might interfere a little bit in the immediate future. I'll update you after the next chapter, which I'm almost done with and will definitely go up next week.
> 
> This chapter might have been my favorite I've published to date. It's just so fun to push Virgil in subtle ways and I feel like my soft spot for that is on full display here. I was also starting to map out a lot of the lore I'm running with while writing it which has just been...gosh, so much fun. A lot more of that will come into play over the next couple of chapters and I'm really excited to be writing more things that diverge a little from established canon.
> 
> oftheflamingheart provided so much feedback on little words and phrases throughout this chapter; I'm starting to get more confident in playing around with imagery and metaphors. It's been one big trust fall for me not knowing how it's going to be received, so I'm incredibly thankful they've been able to catch me every time. You can find them here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil has been working day and night to improve himself, and his hard work is paying off. Deceit comes in with a little treat for him.

It had been a challenging couple weeks, that was for sure. He’d worked overtime plenty of times before, sure, and this was hardly him at his most powerful, but things had never gone anything like this.

He had to be constant. No nighttime breaks, no pointless zoning out, no letting his guard down with close friends, nothing. He tried his best to be bearable, of course. But he was unrelentingly _there_.

And to his surprise, he loved it. That constancy he so adored? This was the ultimate form of it. He felt more in control than he had been in a long time, and he was. Whispering, watching, waiting for the smallest chance of danger and then circumventing it. It felt safe. It felt right. It felt good.

And on top of it all, it put him in Deceit’s good graces. Lately, he had gotten nothing but reaffirmations and encouragement, and it felt fantastic. He was doing what he had set out to do. He was improving.

So he wasn’t worried when Deceit knocked on his door that day. (Well, no more than normal. Social nerves were something he didn’t think he _could_ let go of.) He had nothing to complain about.

True to his prediction, Deceit entered with a proud yet snarky smile on his face. Not for the first time recently, a surge of satisfaction ran through Virgil upon seeing that expression. He was making progress. Soon there would be nothing left to worry about.

What he hadn’t predicted, and what put him right back on the edge as soon as he picked up on it, was the mischievous twinkle in the other’s eye. The kind of thing that said, “I have a secret and I want you to know that.”

Virgil trusted him, of course; he had no reason not to. Still, surprises had never been his thing, so he decided to cut right to the chase. As soon as it became clear that he had permission to speak, he snickered. “What? What is it?” he laughed, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms for effect.

Deceit shut the door behind him with a scoff. He arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he singsonged, but his sly smile betrayed him terribly.

He tried to avert his gaze and save face, but Virgil wasn’t letting him get away with that. He playfully sidestepped him and locked eye contact. Deceit’s teasing turned quickly to annoyance.

“Anxiety, please,” he said. Virgil looked down at his feet.

An uncomfortable silence penetrated the room. Dangit, he’d thought they’d gotten past those. He was doing better than that.

“Listen, so I’ve been working around the clock,” he said (if only to plaster over the tension). “Like you asked.”

Deceit turned to the clock in question. “Yes, I’m so glad. It’s just a shame not to take advantage of it.”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, and I’ve been active 24/7 too.”

“Ooh, what a wonderful surprise!” He clapped his hands together in glee. “Great work, Anxiety.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m the greatest,” he drawled with a sarcastic smile. “Now, seriously, what’s behind your back?” He did not move to see it this time. That had been an incredibly rude move.

Deceit chuckled. “Alright, alright.” He whisked out from behind him a nutty-brown key. It was inscribed with a symbol that looked like a bandit mask. He held it delicately between his thumb and forefinger and brought it closer for him to see. “I decided you deserved a little treat.”

Virgil moved forward to take it, but Deceit pivoted suddenly to the door. “Now, I’m sure you’re ready to ask about a million different questions about the contents of my room, but obviously they will all be answered in time.”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on.” His head was starting to spin. This was going way too fast for his liking. “What? Your - you’re telling me to go to your room?”

He put up his hands. “Inviting, dear Anxiety, I’m only inviting. But I know you, and you wouldn’t pass this up, would you?”

“No, of course I won’t, but -” He paused as if he expected to be interrupted. When nothing came, he continued hastily, “- I mean, why? Just, out of the blue like this?”

“The answer to that is twofold. Firstly, as I said, it is a reward for all your hard work this past month.” He put a warm hand over Virgil’s shoulders with a proud grin. “You’ve been doing great things, and I want you to know that more great opportunities like this will follow if you keep up the good work.”

That earned him a little grin, honest and unguarded. “Thanks. I’ll try my best, promise.”

“We’re all counting on it.” He strolled down the hallway towards the front door, bringing Virgil along with him. “For you see, my second reason is that I think it’s an important first step towards something greater.”

Virgil halted at once, and the guiding hand bumped into him. “What?” What “greater?” There was no greater. Everything was fixed now. If he stuck to this, the plan would be complete. Nothing more to it.

Deceit sighed and moved his hand to ruffle Virgil’s thick brown hair so that it swooped over his eye twice as haphazardly. “Do you recall what you told me the first day I came here?”

He raised a hand. “Yeah, a whole lot of dumb things. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“Gladly. You said - ” He creased his eyes to feign concern, shrugged his shoulders, and dug his hands into baggy creases in his pants that served as makeshift pockets. He swung his whole body into a slump that, overall, served as an eerily on-point impression of his own demeanor. “ - I for one won’t be doing any more hiding,” he grimaced, and wow, that really did sound like him. And now that he said it, he could hear the words from that day coming from a person just like the one in front of him.

“O-oh. That, yeah,” he stammered, visibly startled by the performance. “Uh, about that -”

“And,” he continued in the same voice, “and I’ll try my best, I mean. To live up to your hopes and stuff.”

Ouch. Yep, he definitely remembered saying that part. “So what you’re saying is that you want me to reveal myself to them? To show up out of the shadows and go ‘hey, what’s up, I’ve been deceiving from you for literal decades?”

“That’s what I did with you. It’s barely been a month, and look. You’re already head over heels for me,” he smirked, reverting just as suddenly to his normal self.

“Ha, ha. We were in the same position. I had no right to judge you. But them? They’ve been out in the open from the start. They’ve got every right.”

“Anxiety, my little hideaway, calm down.” Deceit cooed. “Nothing is changing right now. We’ll take baby steps.” He tucked Virgil’s hand tenderly in his own. “Perhaps we should focus on the present for now? I wouldn’t want to upset you, not after you worked so hard these past few days. Introductions, clarification, explaining yourself, all that can come later.”

He continued towards the door, but Virgil made no move to follow him. It wasn’t a show of disobedience or anything; his thoughts were preoccupied with scenarios. Him introducing himself. The sides asking where he had been all these years, and whether he was responsible for all the paranoia Thomas had gone through. Him slumping his shoulders and diverting his gaze as Deceit had done, unwilling to lie but unable to bring himself to spit out the shameful truth.

There was a beat, and Deceit pulled his hand away. He raised an eyebrow. “Anxiety, are you coming?

He jolted to a start. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Perhaps we should leave my room to your imagination for the time being? Your comfort zone is my first one priority, after all.”

Well, that wouldn’t do him any good. Besides, he was all curious now, and he really did want to see the room. Anything to get a change of scenery around here, honestly. “I’m ready, promise.”

Deceit looked him up and down once more, and Virgil could tell it was from a place of concern. But he must have found nothing but a buzzing apprehension, because after a moment he grinned and turned towards the door once more.

Deceit slid the key easily into the keyhole that Virgil had always assumed was just for show. He rotated it, and a satisfying click told Virgil that it unlocked with ease. He turned back to Virgil with a big grin, crouched dramatically with one hand on the knob.

“Ready?”

Virgil nodded. A bit of excitement pulsed through him. He grabbed one arm to stop its jittering. Deceit was there, and of course would know the way from coming and going so often. He had no reason to be nervous or scared, just invigorated for the type of adventure he’d never experienced firsthand. “As I’m going to be.”

Deceit stepped back as he swung the door open, and for almost the first time in memory, Virgil prepared himself to take in the incredible sight of something entirely new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness gracious, this chapter was fun to write. It's been pretty darn freeing to divulge from canon so much. I'm posting this kind of haphazardly in preparation for my vacation next week, so apologies if I don't go more into depth about it, but I really loved taking all the creative liberties you see here - and those are only going to increase from here on out.
> 
> I think we will almost definitely have a chapter up on the 30th, but I don't want to make any promises beyond that. I'll definitely be doing my best, though!
> 
> And as always, thanks to oftheflamingheart for making this chapter both readable and tolerable. You can find them here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Deceit as his guide, Virgil travels into unfamiliar territory.

~~~~Virgil stepped in front of Deceit, through the door, and into the space outside. Immediately, his breath caught.

There was no way to describe what he saw as anything other than a vast night sky. But that wasn’t quite it, either. The night wasn’t quite this all-encompassing; the night wasn’t this pitch-black mural of everything and nothing, and did not radiate the mysterious warmth that was before him now. 

It distinctly brought to mind the afterimage that lay just out the window of a hurtling MetroRail. It was an abyss illuminated only by the white light that soared past in a blurry streak, too mesmerizing to distinguish but unequivocally there.

It was the half-dream dreamed just before total sleep, in that hazy state of knowing one was drifting off and giving in to the numbness of the mind. And, all things considered, that was an appropriate appearance for the place between consciousnesses.

“I take it you‘re not a fan,” came an amused voice behind him, after - after however long, actually. He wasn’t sure how long he had stood there taking it all in before the voice gently pulled him back into the moment.

“No, of course. Or I mean, yes! Or I mean - it’s amazing,” he breathed.

His guide chuckled, which was perhaps a sign of endearment, but it instead made him sheepish and suddenly self-aware. He snapped out of his trance and took a moment to compose himself. When had that crooked smile found its way onto his face?

“I’m glad,” he said as he came up next to him. “Because you’ve got a lot of good things ahead of you.”

Virgil nodded and continued forward. They walked through the path for what must have been five minutes, but it felt like he was caught up in a small eternity. His companion said nothing, but he was grateful for the silence, as it allowed him to immerse himself completely in the larger-than-life way they overtook the pinpricks of light.

All too soon though, a door faded into view and he knew that they had reached the end of the tunnel. He looked over at his companion to find that he, too, must have been caught up in the moment, because his eyes were just now blinking open and his face was stuck in an expression of contentment.

He turned to Virgil. “Oh, wonderful. Now then, Anxiety, there might be some…” He rolled his wrist around. “...unintended side effects, as I’m sure you’ll have figured out by now.”

Virgil ground to a stop for a second time. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know how it is. I know you must have heard them discuss their first times in one another’s rooms. And while I have no experience with the like, I have a general idea of what might happen in mine.”

Virgil’s head was spinning. “Wait - you know about that? And what side effects?” 

“Oh, nothing, just some slight alterations to how you might act. It won’t mess with your head like some of the others’. Besides, it’s all temporary, so no harm done.”

Virgil looked at him, and for once he was the one doing the inspection. Deceit had been off today, pushing harder than he normally did. He raised, but then quickly dismissed the idea that he had done something wrong. This was a treat; that he had been insistent on. Perhaps he was just eager to reward him. Well, Virgil certainly didn’t want to get in the way of that, even if it meant going a bit out of his comfort zone.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” He took a deep breath, and walked forwards, eyes straight ahead. Seeming to read him with impressive accuracy, Deceit pressed the key into his palm as he passed. They exchanged a glance, and Deceit nodded firmly. 

Virgil approached the door and slid the key easily into the lock. It clicked easily and he put his hand on the doorknob - only for the door to be pulled open with an unexpected _thwap_.

The sight before him was hard to wrap his head around even visually. This obviously couldn’t be Deceit’s room, not really - it must have been the one in the back of his, or maybe a storage space. He stepped through the door, too transfixed by his confusion to second-guess entering.

In the center of the room was a great big spider web that lay low to the ground like one of those giant rainbow parachutes. Its silken radii extended to every last wall of the room. The exact number of these walls was indiscernible, as they themselves consisted of gritty yellow bricks that were shifting inwards and outwards in innumerable directions. The joint result of these two phenomena was that the threads were constantly shifting from taut to slack and back again. Tiny new webs hanging across brick formations had budded off of the parent one.

“What is this?” he asked, ducking underneath the bridge thread as he waded deeper into the room. He kept his voice low and steady, as though talking any louder would wake whatever unnatural force was causing the perpetual motion. 

“This, my dark hideaway, is my little side room. It has a mind of its own, as you can see, but I assure you it always works itself out. It’s nothing you have any reason to concern yourself with.” He shut the door behind him and walked over.

“No, actually, I am a little bit concerned. You didn’t think to tell me about this beforehand?” He took a step forward.

Deceit frowned. “We agreed on raising your epinephrine levels, did we not? This sort of thing is exactly what that means. If there’s no danger, then -”

“- I’m still plenty alert! Danger doesn’t affect that.”

“You’re testing me today, Anxiety.”

“I’m testing you? _I’m_ testing you?”

Deceit stepped forwards and said sharply, “Yes, _Virgil_ , you are.” 

That shut him up. 

It took a moment to realize exactly why his instinct had been to stop. Deceit hadn’t ever used that word for him before, at least not that he remembered. He’d never really considered why. He’d always kind of taken it as a thing of respect. Deceit didn’t associate him with that childish name because he didn’t think it fit him. With “Anxiety,” he had a clear purpose. The title was formal and worthy of an equal.

Well, apparently he wasn’t even worthy of that anymore, was he? Now he was “Virgil,” stumpy and awkward and nerdy and, let’s be real, a rightfully easy target for virginity jokes. He’d had all the time in the world to think of the possibilities, but of course, that didn’t take away their power.

And maybe that should have made him feel ashamed, but today, a wave of hot anger bubbled up inside him. How dare he think of him like that? The one time Virgil had the nerve to stand up for himself, and what, suddenly that was all he was? No! He wasn’t that. He would never forgive himself if Deceit saw him as that. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I’m sorry,” he lied.

He looked over at Deceit, who was idly twisting a particularly sturdy silk around his finger. He continued this for a moment, then strode over. Tenderly, he tucked the slack end over Virgil’s ear.

“I’m surprised you came to your senses so quickly,” he smirked. “Let’s talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH
> 
> I’m still debating how to fit Remus into my plan for this story, or whether to consider him canon in the first place. I think I’ll withhold my decision until the next episode, because chances are we’ll be getting a bunch of more confirmation on Virgil’s canon backstory. Either way, I’d say expect a divergence from the series pretty soon.
> 
> In other news, I think this chapter has had to be my favorite to write so far. I had sooo much fun playing with the scene descriptions and visualizing how everything would come together, and I really hope it’s just as much fun on the other end.
> 
> And as always, huge thanks to oftheflamingheart for helping me through this mess of a chapter. You can find them here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inside the room, a compromise is reached.

 “Talk? About what, the fact that you want me to fit right in with the other three like nothing ever happened?”

“Yes,” Deceit said innocently enough, as he slung an arm around him. “For whatever silly reason, I almost got the impression that you were resisting it. But I realize now, that doesn’t make sense. You’re more mature than that, aren’t you?”

He nodded vigorously. Yes, he was mature; Deceit just needed to regain sight of that.

“Give me a little credit,” Virgil said, shifting into what he hoped was a slightly more respectable tone of voice. “I protect us. That’s my job. I’m not planning to let some nerves get in the way of that.”

Deceit led them closer to the centerpiece of the room and sat down on a side of it. To Virgil’s surprise, it didn’t break on impact like a normal web. Quite the opposite, it sagged for only a moment under his body weight before springing back up to support him. Impressed, Virgil followed. Based on his abnormally vast expertise on the comfort level of non-seats, he had to admit this was pretty high up there.

“Oh, of course you aren’t. I didn’t doubt it. I was just curious to know what your plan was.”

He thought about it. He’d always meant to show himself when the time was right, and he certainly hadn’t given up on that. He’d just never gotten the opportunity. Being up-front about this was probably the best course of action.

“I’m waiting for the perfect moment. As long as I make a good first impression, it’s smooth sailing from then on.” He winked, then rubbed his eye. It was strangely irritated, which he chalked up to sleep deprivation.

“I see. So what you’re saying is you want to gather information.”

“Information?” he repeated stupidly.

“‘Intel,’ I’m sure you’d prefer. You want to make a first impression, but you don’t know enough about them to figure out how to make them trust you. How to convince them to work around their wants to accommodate your own. Correct?”

Well, he hadn’t exactly thought of it like that, but it made sense enough. That was what he wanted, after all: for everything to go off without a hitch so that he could be one of them. To have a seat at the table just as he would have had he shown himself all those years ago.

“Sure, that’s it. I’m just planning it out.”

Deceit nodded. “I see. So then, if you’ve been studying them, what have you learned?”

Virgil lay back on the sagging spider web. He thought back to the last meeting he’d listened in on, just one day before Deceit had shown up.

He had crouched cautiously in the loft above the meeting place, the hidden one that nobody had ever thought to check for intruders because as far as they knew, everyone was already present. He had taken notes on the conversation - this time, it was a more celebratory one as they approached the five million mark on Vine.

He had come, like he always did at these meetings, in order to be kept in the loop. He would play his part in all this and contribute the relevant anxieties. It was just a side effect, he told himself, that eavesdropping on the regular reunions also gave him the closest thing he had to interaction.

But as that was the case, he drank it up anyways. Logic, and his eager insistence that they take this opportunity, like any, as an opportunity to continue expanding his mind and streamlining his content. Creativity, and his infectious excitement that they had the potential to go above and beyond with their performances. Morality, and his unabashed joy that they were able to make so many people smile with their content. And if he dared to venture close enough to the edge without being spotted (not a hard task when shapeshifting was an option), it was like he was one of them already.

“It’s not like I’m one of them already,” he said, rolling his eyes at Deceit. He was embarrassed suddenly about just how consistently he watched them, even if it _was_ for research purposes. “I haven’t gone to _every_ meeting they’ve had.” That was technically true, as he was sure he’d missed a couple without realizing. “And I don’t exactly know them inside and out.” And that was true, too, on a literal level. Besides, he wasn’t _perfectly_ perceptive.

“But surely you’ve gathered something?” pressed Deceit. “You didn’t go to many meetings, but you must have gotten to know them somewhat. Or at least, say, what you do or don’t like about them.”

“Oh, they’re easy enough to work with,” Virgil said, figuring that was where this was going. He didn’t want Deceit to think that they were anything he couldn’t handle. “But their ideas, their personalities, I can’t stand them! Roman’s vain enough to put Disney villains to shame, and it’s not like the rest are any better. Truth be told, half the reason I’ve been avoiding them is that I don’t think _I_ could put up with finding things _they_ like through their weird reasoning.”

“Then don’t,” Deceit said.

Virgil snorted. “Like that’d help Thomas’ situation.”

“Remember what we talked about, Anxiety. The others are all their own advocates. So what’s wrong with putting your own interests first?” He examined one hand nonchalantly. “I think you’ve been looking at this in a misguided light. Your introduction needn’t be a mere diplomacy mission when it could work so much better as, say…an intervention.”

Virgil nodded along. He wasn’t exactly fond of the idea; it seemed so aggressive. But if Deceit wanted to view it more like that, it couldn’t hurt him, could it? Especially considering that he was in pretty hot water right now. The wording didn’t change anything. He relaxed into the webbing that he was quickly growing fond of. The whole room had a nice Indiana Jones-ish atmosphere to it. It was novel, in the way even his on-edge self could come to appreciate.

Deceit looked from his hand to Virgil’s face, and his eyebrow raised. “Perhaps that’s enough of my room for one day, my dark hideaway. I can tell you’ve had enough, haven’t you?”

Virgil tilted his head. “Yeah,” he said, a bit confused by the sudden change of subject. Nevertheless, he allowed Deceit to help him to his feet and lead him over and under the scattered lines of silk and out of the room.

The moment he popped his head out, it felt airy both physically and mentally, like a giant weight had been lifted off it. “Hey, what about all those side effects?”

“As I said, it was all temporary. Nothing to...worry your little head about,” smiled Deceit. He rubbed his hand down his left cheek, his scales bending and popping back up as the weight of his fingertips came and left.

Virgil scowled, then his own eyebrows shot up. He went to feel the same side of his face - but any effects there might have been had gone in an instant. He ended up smearing his eyeshadow, and let out a miffed growl. That’d take forever to redo.

He noticed a bristling sound underfoot and looked down to see a plain straw doormat just like the one by his own room. By some ingrained instinct he’d never gotten the opportunity to use, he flipped it over and found underneath it a key identical to the one Deceit had. He pocketed it and heard an obviously bemused hiss behind him.

He turned around to a skeptical Deceit. “You’ll knock, of course?” he asked, eyebrow arched so high that it threatened to surpass the upper perimeter of his face.

“Swear to God,” Virgil said seriously, raising a hand for his oath. He had to sprint to catch up to Deceit, who had already started down the path without him. When he got there, he was embraced with a gentle arm over his shoulders.

“You’re doing so well for me, little hideaway,” said Deceit warmly. The beginnings of pride were evident on his face.

Virgil returned his gaze with his own snarky one. He laughed. “If you wanted an uprising, you could have just said so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta, oftheflamingheart. You can find them here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan's been working hard to keep up with Thomas' routine. Perhaps even a little too hard.

Things had been going smoothly, Logan decided, as of late.

He closed the thick packet he had been studying, and the paper flipped shut with a satisfying thud. That was the last of the highlighted lines, at least for the initial go-around. Roman had requested he not memorize them word-for-word just yet; it allowed him to “breathe life” into them, as he had said the last time they had met to discuss. Leaving a study session incomplete irked him a bit, but he would solidify his knowledge at a later date. If there was one thing he valued almost as much as thorough study, it was the discipline of sticking to a good plan.

So for now, he was content with his progress, both in memorizing the lines and in developing a good lifestyle in conjunction with the others. Better yet, he was glad that they had fallen into a routine, however temporary; preparation for a production as demanding as this one left little time for a wandering mind, which meant that any emotional crises or depression could be kept to a minimum out of sheer necessity.

Best of all, this particular routine seemed to ward off the crash that often came in the middle of rehearsals. Thomas had been particularly alert and active in his deliveries as of late. Clearly, Logan’s methods were paying off, and he couldn’t have been more proud. For once, there was some order in life. He knew exactly what was going to happen.

So how ironic it was that, just as he was storing the script for safekeeping, he should hear someone at his door. “Knock knock!”

“Come in,” he called over his shoulder, adjusting his glasses.

He turned to see his polo-wearing counterpart enter, his signature grin on full display. “You’re supposed to say, ‘who’s there,’” he whined.

"Let it be known that I never have and never will say, ‘who’s there.’”

Patton laughed. “One of these days. You got a minute?”

“You’re in luck, actually. I just finished reviewing a scene,” Logan said, dusting himself off.

“Ooh, neato!” He put his arm around Logan with a little more force than he had intended, causing him to stumble back into him. “Oh! Sorry, Logan. I’m just a little extra peppy today, y’know? Thomas has been doing so well with his lines and I’m super duper proud of him. No small thanks to you, of course!”

Logan beamed. “Yes, I’m glad you appreciate it, Morality. I’ve been putting in a little extra concentration myself, actually, so it makes sense that he’s doing well.”

“Yeah, you’ve been working so hard! You’re really taking this role like a champ, champ.”

He looked around, taking the room in. Every nook and cranny held a creatively stacked shelf, drawer, or container. It was abstract and yet perfectly organized, with every area labeled clearly and all materials tucked away appropriately. His eyes settled on the bed, which was equally tidy. Its starched gray sheets lay untouched from disuse.

“Say,” he said, voice easy and casual, “you’ve been taking such good care of studying that I betcha you’re taking care of yourself too! Right?”

Logan tilted his head in confusion, a mannerism he had picked up from Patton himself. “Of course,” he said, though his tone betrayed more of a question than an answer. “I’ve been keeping my mind as sharp as I always do.”

“Great!” smiled Patton, giving an enthusiastic two thumbs up. “Because, um, er, well, you know, you’re! Logic! And Logic is extra extra important to all of us! So if you were, say, uh, oh, I dunno, sleep-deprived or something!” He wiggled his shoulders cheerfully. “That would be baaad!” Jazz hands.

Logan blinked. “Yep.”

A silence ran through the room for a few moments. Logan appreciated that; Patton, as evidenced by the grin through his teeth, clearly felt it was a good moment to self-reflect, just as he did.

After a nice, quiet moment, Patton weaved the end of his cardigan sleeve through his fingers and wiggled them absentmindedly. “Hey, Logan?” he asked, looking down at the floor (probably to admire its polished, undented craftsmanship).

“Yeah?”

“What do you say we have a family meeting later today? Uh, catch up, chat around, see how we’re all doing. Maybe have a little bit of a mind-to-heart with your old man.”

“I thought we’d decided to wait until after opening weekend for any more meetings, remember? Besides, I can’t do it today. It would interrupt my whole schedule. I have so many things to do and so little time.”

Patton looked cheeky, though Logan couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.

“Mind-to-heart?” he tried again. “Waka waka!”

Ah.

He sighed. “Morality, if you came in just to talk me into a game night, you should leave. I’ve got so much work to do.”

Patton frowned. “Aw, c’mon, it’ll be fun! Besides, I thought you said you were done reviewing the scene already?”

Logan opened his mouth to rebut, but the words died on his tongue as he realized that...yes, actually, that was true. He was ahead of schedule. All that organization, the study, everything he insisted on getting a head start on, hadn’t he gotten all that and more done already? So why was it as though his workload was only piling up?

He pushed the thought out of his mind for now. Patton was waiting for a response. Perhaps he did need some way to clear his mind. It couldn’t hurt.

“...Is SCRABBLE on the table?” he asked at last.

Patton grinned. “Dad joke.”

“Get out of my room.”

He chuckled and turned to exit, but paused in the doorway. “Tomorrow night?”

“See you there.”

With that, Patton waved goodbye stepped out into the hall, leaving Logan to his thoughts. It was a good thing, too; the interaction had left him with much to think about.

He walked over to his desk and pulled out his daily planner from its hiding spot beneath a small mountain of work.

Sure enough, when he flipped to the end of May, he found that today’s tasks were completely cleared. As a matter of fact, as his eyes wandered further down the page, he realized that he was ahead of schedule for tomorrow - no, several days - no, the next week or two, easily.

Logan stared at the page for a moment. How strange. He could have sworn that he was behind. And Logic didn’t draw incorrect conclusions.

Something was amiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TLWTO is now off of a consistent update schedule to take the pressure off of me, so make sure to check back regularly or subscribe for updates!
> 
> As always, thanks to oftheflamingheart for their wonderful fresh eyes on this chapter. You can find them here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's game night for the family. For Deceit and Virgil, though, it's game time.

“I add to Princey’s HELM to make OVERWHELMED. That gives me a bingo, leaving me just shy of...seventy points.”

 

Virgil could tell from his hiding spot that Logic had probably glanced tactfully at Princey before deciding to save himself the trouble by rounding up. Predicting the others’ body languages was one of those unappreciated talents he had developed through his years of listening from this little loft above the meeting place. From quick glances down below whenever he dared to risk them, he had learned to visualize each side’s responses with impressive accuracy.

 

For example, right now he could imagine Morality casting a concerned glance at Logic as he went to record his score. He could see Princey’s indignant gawk as he stared at the board, and Logic’s barely-contained, self-satisfied smirk.

 

And in a more literal sense, he saw the amused half-lid grin of his own companion as he leaned over the rail, watching the whole thing go down.

 

“Get down!” he hissed.

 

Deceit lingered there a second more, then leapt gracefully and silently behind a wall, just as someone’s head must have swiveled around at the noise. A silent beat in which Virgil’s heart seemed to hold its own breath, and then:

 

“Logan, are you okay?” came a voice tinged with concern.

 

Logic - for that’s who it must have been - turned his attention back to the others. “I’m totally fine. I thought I heard something is all.”

 

Deceit tutted in amusement from where he was crouched. He glanced slyly at Virgil from the other side of the open space in the tight loft. Virgil rolled his eyes. That one hadn’t been completely on him. Nevertheless, he allowed himself a (quiet) sigh of relief.

 

“Though now that you mention it, Morality, I actually wanted to raise a question with you both.”

 

Virgil heard the placement of tiles grind to an uncertain halt. “Oh, okay! What’s up?” came Morality’s gentle voice.

 

Virgil leaned closer to the opening. He recognized that tone in the way only Anxiety would be able to. That voice meant that far more was up than Morality was letting on. Deceit tilted his head at him curiously, but Virgil waved him off. He flinched back when Deceit responded with obvious annoyance, but he held his ground. He needed to hear this uninterrupted.

 

“Well, I assure you, nothing’s ‘up’ - it’s your turn, Roman. But out of curiosity, how have you guys been handling play practice lately?”

 

A silent beat followed that told Virgil everything he needed to hear.

 

“Well, Thomas has taken to the part like Romeo to his Juliet!” came a cry.

 

“Impulsively and with no regard for his earlier motivations?”

 

“Exactly!” Roman declared, then caught himself. “Wait, no! Not like that at all! Like a moth to a flame, with all his heart! We live in this role night and day!”

 

“Night and day? I think you’re overdramatizing this.”

 

Princey gasped like Disney himself had descended from the heavens and praised him. “You really mean it?”

 

“Come to think of it...” continued Logic. “Morality, how well is Thomas sleeping?”

 

Morality hesitated. Virgil’s heart skipped a beat when felt his gaze on his hiding spot. He turned to Deceit to check that he was safely away from the edge this time. Thankfully, he found him pressed up against the wall, with a tiny smile that grew as Morality replied.

 

“Just like normal! He might be staying up half an hour-ish later. It’s nothing to be worried about, though!” he added quickly (Virgil could only imagine the disappointed gaze from Logic that must have prompted it). “It’s just for a little bit to make sure he’s all ready to go.”

 

“Indeed! I have to say, this role has really been the height of my performance abilities so far,” Princey ventured. “I’ve got just a touch of extra passion for JD that really sells him, I think.”

 

Logic ignored him, opting to address Morality instead. “When you say ‘just like normal,’ are you comparing his current schedule to society’s general sleep patterns or Thomas’ general sleep patterns?”

 

Virgil noticed Deceit pull his legs a little closer as though in frustration, and swore that in the unreliable lighting he could make out an annoyed frown on his partner’s face. He quickly glanced back down at the floor. Later.

 

“Uh, Thomas’?” Morality responded.

 

“Morality, you know Thomas’ sleep levels are already low. A half-hour margin is easily able to -” He stopped himself, but Virgil was good at filling in the blanks for him. Golly, the rafters had never looked more fascinating.

 

He dared not meet the golden eye of the face exhaling softly next to him. Later, not now. Right now he just needed a little more context. Now was the time to double-check that nothing had somehow slipped past his radar; accusations could always come later.

 

“In any case, Morality,” he continued, his tone so perfectly conversational that it was obviously calculated, “it would be best to work on, just for the future. Besides, the more rest Thomas gets, the more creative energy he’ll have. I’m sure that will help him to push his limits even beyond -” Virgil heard the clacking of game tiles, and Logic must have glanced down - “‘AY.’”

 

This was followed by the most passive-aggressive pencil scratches Virgil had ever heard. 

 

“Five points, Princey.”

 

And  _ that _ was followed by self-congratulatory whooping.

 

“Well, if nobody has any dilemmas to discuss - ” There was a pause of dissent. “Then I’ll just have to turn my attention. Towards topping. ‘AY.’”

 

“So you admit my cunning already!” exclaimed Princey gleefully. Logic and Morality’s voices joined in, and the scene was soon an unintelligible mess of gloating, laughter, and insistence that the SCRABBLE Dictionary didn’t really count, anyway. Virgil smirked. This sort of moment was his favorite to listen in on.

 

But he soon caught sight of Deceit’s impatient face and knew it was time to get going. He ushered him out with a quick hand motion. Virgil guided him made the moderately long trek back up through the brainstem (a name Logic had once given the central hallway that had somehow caught on).

 

On paper, the commute was pretty similar to the first time he had gone to Deceit’s room. The same silence, the same staring at everything he could other than the one walking right beside him. But in practice, the eyes once distracted by awe were now only averted by shame. He’d overdone it this time, he was sure of it. He was causing undue stress and Thomas was suffering because of it and it was all because he didn’t know how to strike a balance.

 

And now, entering his room, he would face the consequences. He didn’t know quite what he was expecting Deceit to do, but then again, socializing was always a horror story when the specifics were left to his imagination.

 

If he had expected disappointment, though, he was sorely mistaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad to finally get this out. Taking myself off of a schedule meant I had a lot of time to make minor changes and it's nice to finally be done with those. On to the next chapter!
> 
> Obviously, thanks to oftheflamingheart for looking through this and helping me confident it was good enough to finalize. You can find them here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, Anxiety has been gifted some stagnancy. The problem is, he wants to spend it somewhere he actually feels safe.

Deceit shut the door and turned around with the biggest beam Virgil had ever seen on him. If Virgil had been more confident, he might have even considered it proud.

“Anxiety, look at you!” he whistled.

Virgil blinked. Was this passive-aggression? Sarcasm? He’d mostly gotten used to the way Deceit talked, in twisted words and confusing metaphors and layers upon layers of irony, but this he couldn’t place. Not daring to speak and risk misinterpreting it either way, he held his tongue and gave Deceit a puzzled look.

“I knew you’d made progress lately but look at this!” he said gleefully. He stepped around Virgil to pace, which was no surprise. It was more or less a routine for him whenever he went off on explanations longer than, oh, five seconds. “You’ve got him completely under your influence. Forget that, you’ve got _them_ completely under your influence. You’re on top of everything we’d hoped to achieve. You’re completely in control. Why, I had no idea just one side could have such power -” He turned around to face Virgil as if he had only just remembered he was there.

“And if you do as I say, your leadership will only grow in time, my dark hideaway,” he said gently, noticing his weary face. “But you know I’d never push you into anything you didn’t want to do. For now, we’ll leave everything as is and give you some time to get used to all this. How does that sound?”

Virgil considered it. “Really good,” he admitted honestly.

“Then consider it done.”

He opened his arms wide, and after a moment, it struck Virgil that people usually used that gesture to offer a hug. He quickly walked into him, and though his grip was a bit awkward, he melted at the sensation of the warm embrace.

With his right hand, Deceit leafed through his thin, papery clumps of hair. “I’ll leave you in peace, for now, dark hideaway. Together, we’ll fix you.”

Virgil offered a vaguely uncomfortable grin. “See you tomorrow?”

Deceit looked him up and down. Virgil schooled his expression in case it seemed like his discomfort was directed at him. After a moment Deceit smiled, satisfied.

“I won’t see you for the next few days. When we go further, you'll be working without constant supervision. You still haven’t proven to me that you’re capable of that.” He made to exit but turned back one last time in the doorway. “Don’t think of it as a test.”

In hindsight, perhaps leaving him alone with his thoughts had been Deceit’s first mistake.

What _was_ that? He realized he had been more present, and yeah, maybe it should have followed that he’d have an effect on the others, but that? That was an extent he had never witnessed before other than in times of imminent danger.

Sure, they’d sounded functional enough. But he had listened to their functional-sounding pretenses for years, and he knew how to read between the lines.

This wasn’t reading between the lines. This was cause-and-effect, plain and simple. This was on him. _I pushed them to their limit, I held them back, I -_

He took a deep breath. _\- I did everything I was told to do. He knows what he’s doing. Thomas will get the security he needs soon enough._

He sat down on his stair, but it didn’t feel right somehow. It wasn’t really his stair now. It was the stair he sat next to Deceit on, or a ledge next to a room that was, in his mind, inseparable from Deceit’s presence, yes. But it had been stripped of its status as “his.”

He scooted further up the staircase, but it still did no good. It wasn’t isolated from the scene of the room, and it didn’t alleviate his thoughts. The setting and Deceit were irreversibly entangled now. He had to get out of this place for just a minute so that he could think his own thoughts in solitude. A solitude that was on his own terms, not Deceit’s, because it was just different somehow.

But that was stupid. He had confined himself to this place for his whole life, and his choices were pretty limited. There was here, yes. Or there was the brainstem, where he would be out in the open. Or his hiding spot, the cerebellum, which was severely cramped (Logic had a habit of drawing his landmark names from the depths of his nerdiness). Or Deceit’s room, which was implicitly out-of-bounds right now. That about exhausted his options.

Unless…

There was another option, technically. With as much space as he could possibly desire, which solved both the cramping and the risk of being spotted. He’d never actually been there, just because he rarely had any need to, so he’d need to make the journey in full by himself. Being out in the open was a risk, no doubt.

But the others were still at the meeting disguised as a get-together, and even if for whatever reason they chose to end it abruptly, they would have no reason to visit one another’s rooms. That made it almost certain that they would just sink out directly rather than taking the inefficient, manual route. This was the best chance he’d get for some time.

No time like the present, right?

He went over to his door, shakily opened it, and started back down the path again. Dang it, this was so much easier when Deceit was there. Now he was alone, with nothing but a vague instinct to guide him and not a clue what the entrance would look like. He spent the journey slinking around corners, and checking and double-checking over his shoulder at all times, just in case. He knew that Princey’s room was likely right next to his destination, so he could spare no precaution. He only got one chance to get this right before his whole life was compromised. He traveled slowly and as carefully as his nerves would allow.

He arrived at his destination the equivalent of two blocks later.

He may not have known what to expect, but he knew the instant he came across it that this was the entryway. It was very clearly inspired by the wardrobe portal to Narnia, what with the intricate engravings on the door of a scene of Eden or something. There was no handle in sight.

Virgil pushed gently on the door and found that it was loose against the doorframe. A bright, white glow emerged from the other side. Before he could second-guess himself, the light encased him until it was all he could see. He was dimly aware of his sense of touch leaving him as he lost track of the door, the ground, gravity, everything, and then he was falling through this photo-negative void, deeper and deeper into what seemed to be his own mind, all in an instant that felt like an eternity too short to process, gradually yet faster and faster and faster -

And when his eyes blinked open in the center of the tall, grassy field, he caught his first look at the Imagination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bah, I feel like this is all my notes consist of, but this chapter was so fun to write! It feels so good to be back in the Imagination - it’s such a fun setting to explore and I’m excited to revisit it after an entire year.
> 
> Needless to say, none of this would be possible without my incredible beta, Tam, who helped me with readability and clarity on this chapter. They’ve been awesome. You can find them here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone in the imagination, Virgil has his curiosity piqued.

His first instinct was (surprise surprise) to panic.

He looked around him, but there was only more field and blue sky as far as the eye could see. The world was barren; he was open and vulnerable. 

He didn’t know what he had expected the Imagination to consist of, exactly, but he thought there would at least be something. He wasn’t safe like this. He needed security, he needed shelter, or  _ something _ !

And then suddenly, he was no longer in a grassy field, but in a damp cave, looking out at it.

Oh, right. It was called the Imagination for a reason.  _ Nice going, Anxiety. _

Well, in any case, he had some semblance of security now. And that meant he had time to think.

The tension in that conversation, it had to have been his doing. There was no other explanation. He’d been doing everything in his power to stay vigilant, to keep them safe, to do his actual job for once. And it had been working. Deceit had assured him he was doing it right. He had been proud. Anxiety, for all his cowardice, had been making a positive contribution for once.

What had changed between that and the meeting?

Nothing, in Deceit’s mind.

Maybe it was a lack of experience. Virgil was practiced in that observation routine. That time had been Deceit’s first, so surely he had expected things to be more apparent.

But then again, he had praised Virgil’s influence. Didn’t that mean that he, too, had sensed something off? Did he think it was a good thing? No, the biggest change was sleep deprivation. There was nothing they could gain from this.

Anxiety caught himself for the second time that day. He was going in circles. There was no point in guessing what went on in Deceit’s head. He had made himself clear: right now, they had the upper hand, whatever that involved. His job was only to maintain it.

Wanting to distract himself, he followed the beam of light that was streaking past him and discovered the mouth of the cave just around the bend. Outside was the unkempt tallgrass from just a minute ago, bowing lazily to a slight draft. The idyllic grassy fields looked infinitely more inviting from here, where his wits were about him. He knew he was supposed to embody raw fight-or-flight, but he liked to think he had a level of rational thought mixed in there somewhere.

He let out an impressed whistle. What a place. He had heard all about it from Princey’s vigorous retellings at the meetings, of course, but Princey had a...predisposition towards painting epic scenes of yore. He stepped slowly back into the field and felt the warm sun on his cold skin. The sensation was nurturing and indescribable. This was nothing like all those knights in shining armor or bustling seaports or brooding witches and warlocks from his stories. This was the default, the base form of the Imagination, and for all the new possibilities of power that came with that, Virgil was hardly inclined to change much about it.

Still, he was tempted to try his power out. So he scrunched up his eyes and tried the first thing that came to mind: “I need a SCRABBLE board.”

His eyes blinked open, and there it was. His very own game board, one of those newer, plastic ones. In awe, he ran a finger down it, feeling the creases around the little white squares. He didn’t know what overcame him, why this stupid board game was so magical. Well, part of it was probably the fact that it was literally magic. But it was more than that. It was real and pretty incredible, just like he had always envisioned it to be. Those little indents in the board, waiting to be filled in by those little squares he’d always thought about…

“I need the tiles.”

Wooden tiles appeared, in exactly the positions he had imagined them to be this morning. A shot of adrenaline surged through him. He could really recreate whatever he wanted from here. He could duplicate the whole scene if he wanted. He could make it real. Or at least, real enough to experience firsthand, which was all he wanted.

“I need the bag, too.”

A small pouch landed on its side next to him, overflowing with the remaining pieces.

“And the box.”

A worn cardboard box materialized, soft and slumped.

“A-and the floor,” he went on, excitement growing. “I need the medulla floor.”

The rugged texture below him vanished, and he was standing in a large but finite square of wooden floor.

“And the walls and ceiling!”

Tan walls identical to those of his room sprung up, giving him familiarity. Safety. Confidence.

“And the furniture, and then them -”

His breath hitched as he realized what he had said. “No, wait, I don’t need them -”

And all at once, he was being stared down by three pairs of eyes identical to his.

There was a long, terrible silence in which everything happened at once. Logic, scrunching his nose up and trying to figure out this phenomenon. Princey, eyes wide and disbelieving, and Virgil could tell, scared. Morality, who took a hesitant step forward, curious but so, so worried.

The question came from all of them at once. “Who are you?”

No, nonono, this wasn’t happening, these couldn’t be them, not for real, right? Anxiety shook his head in disbelief. It was the Imagination, it wasn’t real, they weren’t real, this wasn’t real, he should be able to make them go away, go away go away go away -

“He seems to be malfunctioning,” commented Logic, taking a step closer to inspect him.

“Aw, c’mon now, Logan!” chided Morality gently. Logan turned back to him. “He’s probably new, right? I’m sure he has a perfectly good explanation for everything here.” He gave Virgil a small smile glimmering with false hope. “Right?”

“I-I-I -“ he stammered.

Princey laughed, confident and optimistic, and outstretched a hand. By some deeply embedded instinct, Virgil took it. He flinched as he saw Princey glance down at his hand, and realized a moment too late that he must be able to feel it trembling.

“No need to worry, whoever you are!” he exclaimed. “We’re all on the side of good here!” He frowned as he felt Anxiety’s trembling intensify, and slowly released him. “Unless that isn’t what you stand for.”

Logic came forwards and pushed Princey aside. “Well, I can only think of one explanation for him being here. He has to stand for something. He leaned forward to get a better look at his terrified features. “What  _ do _ you represent?”

“What... _ are _ you?” came Morality’s gentle, nervous voice, and that hurt worst of all, because Virgil knew he still held the hope that he was something worth preserving.

Virgil did the only thing he could think of: he put up a finger to indicate he needed a moment, then closed his eyes.  _ Breathe, breathe, breathe. _ They wouldn’t trust him if he couldn’t even get an answer out. He kept breathing, shaky but repetitive.

He breathed. He could hear their voices around him, loudly bickering about what they should do, but he refused to listen. He didn’t think he could bring himself to, anyways.

He breathed. He let their voices become muffled on the way to his thoughts, instead forcing a weak silence to the forefront of his mind.

He breathed. He wasn’t sure how long it had been. This stuff usually seemed longer than it actually was, but at this point, he actually wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been hours.

He breathed. The voices had been completely deafened by now. He knew he wasn’t going to get any better than this. No advantage to putting it off.

He breathed.

When he finally opened his eyes, he stood alone in the center of a tall, grassy field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I love this trope. Not much to say about this one, it was so much fun to write.
> 
> Of course, an enormous thanks to Tam for giving me so much support on this one. You can find them here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinxOfTheFlamingHeart


End file.
